


Sunshine

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Fingering, Coming Untouched, M/M, Morning Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Riding, Smut, so much praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 16:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The sun is shining, it's a beautiful morning, and Otabek accidentally finds out about Yuri's praise kink.(3.7K words of pure smut. That's literally it.)





	Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> i have no excuse for this?? it was supposed to be a simple smutty oneshot and then this happened idek my dudes but i hope you enjoy

Otabek wakes to the feeling of soft hair tickling his face and neck and the taste of apple shampoo in his mouth. He tightens his grip on Yuri even as he sputters, pulling his still-sleeping boyfriend closer to him. Yuri stirs, nuzzling his face further into Otabek’s neck and letting out a sleepy sigh.

For a moment, Otabek hesitates to open his eyes. He relishes in the silkiness of the sheets against his bare skin, the warmth of Yuri against him, the steady breaths caressing the pulse point on his neck. Yuri is a soft, solid weight in his arms and against his side, and he pets Yuri’s skin wherever he can reach without disturbing his rest. Otabek only opens his eyes when he can see warm sunlight dancing patterns across his eyelids.

The first thing he sees is blond, light reflecting gold off his lover’s tangled hair. It’s everywhere: strewn across the pillow, resting on the sheets, falling in spinning strands across both their faces. Yuri is still asleep, his face open in a vulnerability Otabek could never have expected when he met his soldier boy all those years ago. One of Yuri’s hands is tucked between their two chests; the other is curled loosely around the nape of Otabek’s neck, fingers brushing against the soft, buzzed hair.

Otabek knows it’s weird to watch him sleep; Yuri always calls him a creep when he finally wakes up and catches him. But in the four years they’ve been dating, Otabek has always been the first to awaken, and on days like this, when they have no plans and no practice, Otabek takes the time to appreciate Yuri’s beauty for what it is.

It’s easy to call him beautiful when he’s out on the ice, destroying and rebuilding his body in impossible new ways with an elegance Otabek doesn’t think any other creature could emulate. That’s the beauty he has to perfect, painstaking and poised, before he presents himself up to the world with it as his weapon and armor. But this—

This was _Yuri._ Hair knotted and gold, drool at the corner of his mouth, cheek smooshed against Otabek’s shoulder, brow relaxed: this was the Yuri he only allowed Otabek to see, and it was a privilege Otabek would never stop thanking the stars for.

He drags his hand up gently, from the middle of Yuri’s curled spine to his hair. Though he can’t run his hand through it like Yuri loved (trying to untangle it would wake Yuri in a _very_ unpleasant way), he strokes it gently over the knots. He can feel its softness despite the mess sleep has made of it, and as he moves his fingers down its length, he hears Yuri let out a breath, a sleepy sigh that makes Otabek smile. He stills his hand, resting it on the back of Yuri’s head as he watches his chest rise and fall steadily.

“You’re such a fucking creep, you know.”

Yuri hasn’t opened his eyes yet, but there’s a smile on his lips and he’s cuddling impossibly closer to Otabek, movements still slurred and languid with sleep. Otabek only gives a huffed laugh in reply, and then he’s greeted by the sea green of Yuri’s eyes, still tired, but bright. Yuri arches against him a little, stretching his sleep-tensed muscles and wrapping both of his arms more securely around Otabek’s shoulders.

“Why do you always watch me like that? I can tell every time, even if you think I’m still asleep.”

Otabek knows that’s a bluff. He can pinpoint the exact moment Yuri awakens by the subtle shallowing of his breath, the tiny twitches in his nose--well, he can usually tell. But Yuri, although he trusts Otabek to see him in moments of candid serenity like this (and vice-versa), hasn’t quite lost the compulsion to half-heartedly present himself as _Russia’s Ice Tiger_ instead of Yuri Plisetsky. Still, it’s a far cry from the closed off, guarded soldier he was when he was fifteen.

Otabek considers Yuri as he messily wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist before settling against him again, and he answers.

“I like to watch you because you’re beautiful,” Otabek says simply.

Yuri tenses

“I—what the hell kind of sappy shit is that? Shut the fuck up,” Yuri spits back, a blush quickly spreading across his cheeks. The corners of Otabek’s mouth turn up as his hand comes to cup his lover’s face.

“You are, Yura. Every time I wake up to you sleeping against me—I don’t even know how I got so lucky.”

Yuri would look angry if it weren’t for the redness growing darker on his face and the smile he was trying to hard to keep from appearing. “You’re such a—shut up!” he stutters, burying his face in Otabek’s chest. “You—what the fuck? You sound like fucking _Victor_ with that shit—“

Otabek’s smile gets a little wider at Yuri's embarrassment, and he moves both his hands to slide gently down to Yuri’s waist, holding him as he squirms. His lips press gently to Yuri’s forehead.

“My Yura,” he teases, “so _perfect_.”

Otabek knows Yuri better than anyone, but even he’s surprised when Yuri lets out a tiny whimper.

At first, he’s afraid he’s upset Yuri somehow, and is about to apologize for teasing him when he feels something hard pressing against his hip.

_Oh._

Yuri has gone uncharacteristically silent. Otabek places his hands on Yuri’s shoulders and gently coaxes him out from where he’s burrowed his head in Otabek’s neck. His face is still flushed and he’s still pouting, but there’s definitely something _more_ in his expression now.

“Be honest, Yura. Do you like that?” he says, hooking his fingers under Yuri’s jaw and guiding him to meet his gaze. Yuri doesn’t comply.

“I—what? Like what? Your stupid-ass teasing? Of course not,” Yuri shoots back, but he doesn’t shy away from Otabek’s touch; no, he leans into it.

“So you don’t like it when I tell you how perfect you are?”

Yuri doesn’t give a reply, but a smaller, breathier noise passes through his lips, and that’s more than enough of an answer. Otabek can feel Yuri’s quick pulse against his hand, and what feels like a growing warmth in every place their bodies are in contact. Before Yuri can sink his teeth into his bottom lip, Otabek is kissing him.

When he does, Yuri finally feels open.

Yuri’s hands flutter along the nape of his neck and the muscles in his shoulders as their tongues meet in rolling kisses. Otabek hooks his arm around Yuri again, resting his hand in the small of his back the way he knows Yuri likes.

For a while, they simply lose themselves in each other. The kisses deepen, and for a few moments, the world is just the two of them, tangled in the sheets, and the sunlight engulfing their bodies in a blinding, tender warmth, holding them as they hold each other.

Then, Otabek’s thumb inadvertently brushes against Yuri’s nipple, and Yuri’s startled moan reminds Otabek exactly where this is going to go.

Otabek holds Yuri with both hands at his waist as he gathers the strength to draw away from Yuri’s eager mouth. Yuri makes a noise of disapproval, but before he can form words, Otabek is sucking tiny kisses into the most sensitive spots on his neck, and Yuri is keening. Otabek feels him arching against his hands as he explores the smooth, hot skin, proud whenever he manages to coax a moan from Yuri’s throat.

Slowly—too slowly for Yuri’s liking, anyway—he travels downward, stopping to make little bruises on Yuri’s collarbones before continuing further. Otabek lets his breath fan out over one of Yuri’s hard nipples, smirking in satisfaction when Yuri shivers in anticipation. His tongue darts out to swirl over the sensitive nub, wet and hot, and his dick twitches when Yuri cries out. Yuri’s hands tangle in Otabek’s hair as he writhes against him.

“Beka, ple—ah! Please,” he pants, face scrunched up and eyes pleading.

Otabek releases him and his eyes automatically travel upward, admiring the beautiful mess he’s made of his boyfriend.

“Yura, _fuck._ Look at you,” he marvels, voice reverent and breathless. Yuri whimpers at the praise, eyes fluttering closed involuntarily. “So good, so perfect.”

Otabek can’t get over the effect his words are having on Yuri. His breath is shaky and quick, interspersed with moans; his needy hands grab at Otabek’s shoulders like he’s trying to ground himself. But his face—brow furrowed, lips bitten and red and wet, eyes glassy, _beautiful—_ that’s what’s really getting to him. It’s almost how Yuri looks when he’s about to—

Otabek’s breath hitches.

“Are you gonna come like this, babe?”

Yuri’s hips twitch against his own, desperate to get even the tiniest amount of friction. Otabek continues rubbing at his nipples with his thumbs, and Yuri nearly screams.

“Wow, you are, huh? You like it that much, me telling you how amazing you are? You don’t even need me to touch you, do you? Such a good boy—“

And just like that, Yuri is coming, hips frantically bucking against friction that isn’t there. His lips are ripped open in a silent cry, his hands gripping Otabek’s shoulders as his orgasm shatters through him. He whimpers desperately as he starts to come down, slumping back into Otabek’s arms as he comes back to himself, boneless.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Yuri breathes, and Otabek emphatically thinks the same.

“If I’d known that was a thing for you, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” he says, unsurprised when Yuri pouts up at him, albeit less fiercely than he had been before. “I can't believe I never realized. You really like it when I praise you,” he continues, unwilling to let this go now that he’s seen it in action.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “I do _not_ ,” he says, but the wetness now covering both their thighs says otherwise.

Otabek gathers his still loose-limbed boyfriend into his arms, kissing the top of his hair gently. They hold each other for a few minutes, Otabek watching as Yuri’s eyelids grow heavy again.

“You look so pretty when you come,” Otabek whispers against Yuri’s hair.

And just like that, Yuri is tensing again. _Interesting._

“ _Fuck,_ Beka,” he growls, “you’re such an annoying fucking tease.”

Then, directly into Yuri’s ear: “Came so perfectly for me. I love seeing you like this.”

Yuri moans, half-annoyed, half-turned on. Otabek watches in delight as Yuri squirms, quickly becoming flustered again. It wasn’t just dirty talk, either; he really did love seeing Yuri like this, worked up and desperate—just another form of Yuri’s beauty that only Otabek was allowed to see.

“Know what? Fuck it,” Yuri says suddenly, and then he’s climbing on top of Otabek, laying him flat against the mattress. Legs on either side of his hips, he leans forward, grabs Otabek’s comically surprised face, and smashes their lips together. Yuri is already half-hard again, and Otabek has been hard ever since this whole thing started. With his usual haphazard impatience, Yuri is grinding his hips down on Otabek’s, muscles shaking where he’s leaning on his forearms. Otabek groans when Yuri starts sucking large marks into his neck, and his hands travel down, down, over Yuri’s arched back and reaching to cup his ass. Yuri’s mouth falters at the touch, and he sinks his teeth slowly into the soft skin of Otabek’s shoulders, hips still moving.

“Y-Yura,” Otabek grunts out, “you sure you’re ready to go again?”

Yuri doesn’t answer, but sends him a wild smirk as he leans over Otabek, almost falling off the bed (and startling a laugh from Otabek) as he reaches into the nightstand drawer and fetches a bottle. Otabek makes to grab it from his hand, but Yuri snatches it out of his reach, smug look plastered on his face. He returns to his place, straddling Otabek’s waist.

“Just watch,” he says, “’m gonna fuck myself for you.” He drizzles lube on three of his fingers before reaching back, pressing one finger lightly to his hole.

He and Otabek both lose their breath with that first touch, their eyes locked. Though Otabek can’t see it himself, he knows the exact moment Yuri presses inside by the divine noise that spills from Yuri’s mouth. Otabek can only imagine how wonderful Yuri must feel inside, hot and clenching—he can’t take his eyes off this beautiful boy on top of him, writhing on his own fingers.

“You look so incredible, Yura, stretching yourself for me, my perfect boy—“ He sees Yuri’s hips rut back onto his fingers like he’s trying to ride them, and Otabek doesn’t dare touch. Instead, he listens, letting that symphony of whimpers consume his mind and body. His gaze softens as he tilts his head back against the pillows, and he loses track of time as he watches Yuri prep himself shakily.

He comes back to himself quickly as Yuri sinks down on his dick without warning, both of their moans intermingling. Yuri’s eyes squeeze shut against the pressure, and he takes a few shuddering breaths as he adjusts. That tight heat is more perfect than Otabek had imagined, and his eyes rake up and down Yuri’s body, now seated fully on top of him. Otabek can feel Yuri's thighs trembling where they’re pressing against his hips.

Otabek sits up gently, wrapping his hands around Yuri’s waist and guiding him closer as he shifts to lean against the headboard. Yuri’s hands grab at Otabek’s shoulders and he presses his nose to the crook of Otabek’s neck, still getting used to the stretch. Otabek holds Yuri gently, one hand reaching down to Yuri’s ass and rubbing gently.

“Fuck, Yura, you feel so perfect around me, so tight,” Otabek whispers, and he feels Yuri’s neglected dick twitch where it’s pressed between their bodies. Suddenly, he rises up on Otabek’s dick and slams back down, both of them groaning at the feeling. With Otabek’s hands guiding him, he works up a steady rhythm, only faltering when he _finally_ finds that spot inside him, tightening impossibly further around Otabek and startling a moan from him. 

Otabek buries a hand in Yuri's hair and Yuri lifts his head from where he'd buried it in Otabek's shoulder. Otanek takes the opportunity to press frantic kisses to Yuri's neck, relishing in the sounds that result. Yuri is letting out tiny noises and curses with each bounce, fingernails digging into Otabek’s shoulders, body taut and shaking. Soon, Otabek feels that familiar build in his core, and one of his hands squeezes gently around Yuri’s dick, coaxing a drop of precome and a high-pitched moan from Yuri.

“Just like that, fuck, you’re doing so well. Are you getting close?” He moves his hand faster over Yuri, whose pace hasn’t faltered despite his trembling.

“Fuck, yes, Bek—ah! Close, close,” he pants.

“Come on, kitten, come with me.”

Yuri whimpers, the pet name and stimulation overwhelming him, and he throws his head back even as his body arches forward, Otabek’s dick pressing even more insistently against his prostate as he comes, crying out. Otabek thrusts up into Yuri as his own orgasm rips through him, squeezing Yuri’s waist as he bonelessly sinks further onto Otabek.

They breathe each other in as they come down, unmoving except for their panting and the lazy little kisses they press to whatever available skin there is. Otabek notices the sunlight isn’t illuminating Yuri anymore, but he still seems to be glowing, and he smiles as he presses another kiss to Yuri’s sweaty hair.

“Since when do you call me ‘kitten’?” Yuri slurs suspiciously, and Otabek laughs, breathless.

“Just kind of slipped out. It fit. You were practically purring,” he replies, smiling when Yuri blushes just like he thought he would.

“You’re so annoying today, what the fuck. I’m not a kitten,” Yuri huffs against Otabek’s neck.

“Maybe not, but it made you come, so—“

Yuri smacks his arm weakly before he can finish that sentence, face scrunching up when he shifts, Otabek still inside him. Otabek tries to shift him so he’s more comfortable, but Yuri gasps, his red lips parting so prettily, and fuck—

“Think you can come one more time for me?” The question leaves Otabek’s mouth before his brain can catch up.

Yuri sends him a dry glance, but Otabek thinks he can see something else in his expression. “I just came twice and we haven’t even gotten out of bed yet,” he says.

“I know, but now that I know about your praise kink—“

“ _I do not have a praise kink—!”_

“—I kind of want to explore it some more, that’s all.”

“Beka, we are _not_ making this a thing—“

“If you really don’t like it, then I won’t push,” Otabek says. This makes Yuri go silent, and he refuses to meet Otabek’s eyes. He stares at a spot on the wall behind Otabek, resting his chin on his shoulder to avoid meeting his eyes. Otabek stays patient, knowing how hard it is for Yuri to come to terms with intimate things like this. He idly strokes his hand up and down Yuri's back for a few minutes before Yuri sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes and lifting his head.

“Fucking _fine._ I like it, okay? I fucking swear, if you tell _anyone_ about this—“

“Yura, you know I would never do that.”

“…I know,” he says quietly, and then leans in to kiss Otabek softly. And as much as Otabek wants to make him come one more time, to wreck him in the gentlest of ways, he knows Yuri still needs time—so that’s what Yuri gets. They kiss softly for a little while, limbs tangling and tongues exploring lazily. Eventually, Yuri slides off Otabek’s soft dick with a small moan and Otabek figures that’s his cue to take it further.

Arms firm around Yuri’s body, he flips them over carefully so he’s the one on top. Yuri whines, needy, wrapping his legs more securely around Otabek’s waist. Otabek slides a hand up and down Yuri’s thigh and sighs into Yuri’s mouth.

“So good for me,” he says, and takes Yuri’s still soft cock into his hand gently, swallowing Yuri’s whimper. “Sensitive?”

Yuri makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat, but shakes his head, breathing shallowly. “Please,” he says simply, and Otabek moves his hand.

“Such a good boy, letting me see you come again,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss Yuri’s neck. Yuri moans as his dick goes half-hard, pain and pleasure overwhelming him. “Can I finger you, Yura? I can’t stop thinking about how perfect you feel, how perfect you look when I’m inside you—“

Yuri cries out at Otabek’s words, writhing underneath him. “Yes, _yes,_ fuck, Beka, _please._ ”

Otabek wipes some of the come between their stomachs onto his fingers and gently presses two inside, reveling in the sounds Yuri makes in response. He isn’t pressing against Yuri’s spot just yet, but Yuri is squirming like he is, teeth sinking into his abused bottom lip.

“You’re doing so well for me, so amazing,” Otabek says reverently, “so hot when you’re shaking and desperate like this.”

Yuri keens, one hand snaking down to touch his dick, but Otabek grabs his wrist and presses it to the mattress above his head. This only makes Yuri squirm even more wildly under Otabek’s body, whimpers increasing in frequency, and Otabek makes sure to store that away for another time.

Teasingly, he brushes his fingers against Yuri’s spot, and Yuri’s back arches impossibly under him, every inch of his body vibrating with overstimulation. His cock is red and twitching with each of Otabek’s thrusts, and his wrist strains under Otabek’s strong grip.

“Ah, _ah_! Beka, p-please, I need to—“ he loses his words as another loud whimper is ripped from his throat, overwhelmed. Otabek can see tears forming at the corners of his eyes, and almost stops, but then: “Beka, please, _please,_ just—let me come, _ah—_ wanna be good f-for you, please, let me come, need to c-come—“

“So perfect, falling apart on my fingers,” Otabek whispers, rubbing incessantly against that spot inside Yuri, “come, Yura, _good boy—_ “

And Yuri is screaming, shaking so hard Otabek has to hold him before he falls off the bed. There are tears leaking down his face and hardly anything comes out of his dick as he comes for a third time, hole clenching so tightly around Otabek’s fingers. Otabek can’t take his eyes off Yuri’s face, eyes clenched shut, tears streaming down his face, _fuck, he’s beautiful_ —

Yuri collapses down against the sheets, breathing shakily, arms reaching out toward Otabek even though his eyes are still closed tightly. Otabek shifts him gently and lays down next to him, taking him into his arms as he sniffs, still overwhelmed.

Otabek soothes him with little whispers and nothings in his ear, stroking his hair and holding him close. Yuri’s heartbeat eventually slows, and he’s leaning, boneless, against Otabek’s chest, the only tension in his body the grip of his hands, which are grabbing at Otabek like he’s the only thing tethering him to the earth.

“Wow,” he breathes after a while, so quiet Otabek isn’t sure he really said anything. He laughs just a little, hugging Yuri’s still-trembling body closer.

“Yeah, _wow,_ ” Otabek replies. “That was…”

“Fucking intense,” Yuri finishes, and Otabek figures that’s a good sign. “What the fuck even was that? I'm never moving ever again.”

Otabek looks at the blond bundle in his arms, drawing him out a little to see the little, wry, blissful smile gracing his face. His eyes are sparkling as he looks up at Otabek, and fuck, how he got someone so _beautiful_ to look at him like that, he’ll never know.

“I wouldn’t mind staying in this bed with you forever,” Otabek says simply, and Yuri’s smile grows. “But we should probably shower.”

Yuri purses his lips. “If you're making me move then you have to carry me. You did this to me, so now you have to deal with the consequences.”

Otabek pecks him on the lips, letting his hands tangle in Yuri’s messy hair. “Gladly.”


End file.
